The Mailman

WARNING: Contains graphic violence.

The cool air was a bit nippy as he reached out to put the mail in the mailbox. He was aware that the family in the house had gone off to some relative's house, where it was probably snowing. But he still needed to deliver the mail.
As the mail slipped into the mailbox, a sudden gust came, and blew an envelope out of his hand into their yard. He sighed, knowing that he'd have to get it. He got out of the car, and started jogging after the letter. He caught it quickly, and started to walk back.
The only warning he had was a growl.
Then there was a pain in his right ankle, and he suddenly fell down to one knee, as he screamed in pain. He looked back, and saw that his ankle was red with blood, and was suffering a very deep bite mark. His eyes darted around, until he saw the perpetrator.
It was a small dog, no bigger than his forearm. The dog was mostly white, with little black patches of fur. Her snout wasn't looking very large, about the length of a pencil.
It was also covered in blood.
The mailman took off his messenger bag, ready to swing it. As the dog came at him again, he swung his bag, and connected with the dog. The dog went flying, but when she landed, seemed mostly unharmed. She growled and lunged again. The mailman swung at him again.
The dog expected it this time. As the bag come close to him, she jumped, and it swung uselessly under him. As the dog landed, she was close to the mailman's wrist, and took advantage of that.
The mailman screamed as the dog took a bite out of his right wrist, blood already coming out and matting the dog's fur. The dog looked more feral now, more hungry.
The Mailman, however, did not notice. He was crawling back to his car, his head clouded by pain and fear, wanting nothing more than to get away from the beast. Had he not been so afraid, had he been able to think clearly, he would've known that crawling away would be futile, and that his best option was to continue fighting. But he didn't.
He paid the price for it.
The dog came and bit his Achilles tendon in his left foot. He screamed again, and rolled onto his side, holding his leg in an attempt to treat the wound as well as one who couldn't form a coherent thought could.
Then the dog came into his view. The dog stared at him, hungrily, ferociously, lovingly?
The mailman's last coherent thought was one of understanding. The dog loved the mailman as a predator loves prey, to give one's life to another for sustenance in their's.
Then his thoughts were scattered by nothing but pain when the dog went for his throat, until he finally died there.